


you're going to die in your best friend's arms.

by of_dreamdust



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, But only if you squint, Happy Ending, M/M, Mentions of War, Mentions of homophobia, Regeneration, Soulmates, World War I, World War II, but like if you squint, characters' death (but not really), i don't even know what i'm doing, i guess, i just wanna warn you for everything, mentions of ptsp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 02:39:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3364646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/of_dreamdust/pseuds/of_dreamdust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And you hate the world and the destiny, and whatever it is that scatters you across the lifeline, like you have no feelings, no purpose, no nothing.</p><p>You want to tell him that you love him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're going to die in your best friend's arms.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so embarrassed, bear with me, I love y'all.

You don't remember the first years. Not that clearly anyway. You just remember dust and rain and shaking.

But the first thing you remember vividly are his eyes. Those dark green eyes, so unusual in those times. Almost as unusual as yours. He smiled at you, you remember that too. He smiled and told you: “We look alike.” Well, not quite; not in this language anyway. But it bore the same meaning.

“We look alike,” he said, and point at your eyes. You smiled back.

That’s the first time you saw him, the first time you met him. But you don’t remember much more of that first time.

The next you remember more clearly. You found him by accident, and you remembered him.

But he didn’t remember you.

He smiled, though. He smiled again, with those big green eyes of his. They were a bit lighter color now. _Like moss_ , you thought.

Life isn’t as long as everyone thinks it is. After some time, it becomes a blur, one life and the other. So you aren’t quite sure if it’s the same life you have in mind. Maybe it’s not.

But you remember the time you fell in love. You remember the pain.

Because you were always so smart, so sharp, you managed to figure it all out. So you also knew that a man who loves another man is a dead man.

So you told him to run.

“They’ll blame you too,” you said. Not quite that, but the meaning is the same.

He did run. You didn’t blame him.

Because that time, it hurt a lot. It hurt so much that you remember it even know.

So next time, you didn’t look for him. Because you knew he was still alive.

But he found you still.

He found you one bright summer day. He was only a child. He didn’t remember; of course he didn’t. But he smiled at you again. And you smiled back. That time, you really loved him.

The next time is happier. He found you again, not so much years between you, and you wondered what had happened that he’d followed so soon. But you don’t ask, because this time, he is a woman.

A beautiful woman, nonetheless. With long brown hair, and familiar green eyes.

This time, you married her. And it was a happy life. The happiest you would ever get. You wish you knew how to appreciate it more. Because this time, he loved you too.

But sometimes you win, and sometimes you lose. You guess that’s how it has to be. Some sort of balance has to exist.

Because you didn’t find him in next life.

You searched, and you searched, and you prayed, and you hoped.

Life after life after life. Alone.

The times were dark and hard. For you, it was the hardest time. Because you had been poor, and naked, and lost, but never alone. You didn’t know what to do.

And just when you felt like giving up, you found him. It took lives and centuries, but you finally found him.

You found him, and he was about your age. This time, he didn’t smile. He looked at you with his green eyes, and they were sad. The war was coming, that’s what they were saying. And they were right.

He signed up for it, and you didn’t give it much thought. You followed him; you would follow him everywhere now.

It was horrible. It was loud, and dirty, and bloody, and you were scared most of the time, because you had never seen anything like that. But he was there, and somehow, it was bearable. It was better than to be alone; everything was.

And he would’ve smiled sometimes. More often than not, those smiles were for you. Honest smiles when you shared a cigarette; comforting smiles when you would’ve tried and swallowed your fear at night.

There were nights when you wanted to tell him everything. You wanted to tell him that you knew him before he could remember. You wanted to tell him that you had died for him, and would do the same now. You wanted to tell him that you loved him, that you still love him, and that once he had loved you too. You wanted to tell him that you had missed him so badly, and that you hoped that he had missed you too.

You both died in that war.

And next time, you thought it would be happier. Because now you were both there, in the same street, of the same age, and it was just what you wished for. He smiled at you a lot this time, and those were honest smiles, honest laughs. You thought it would be alright.

But another war came. And you begged him not to go. But he went, and you followed.

This time it was even worse. This time, it was the most horrible thing, and you would never forget.

This time, you survived. But you never came back from that war, not really. Especially not him.

You fought a lot, but you stayed because the thought of him hating you was more bearable than the thought of being alone.

He wanted to die, he told you. You told him that then you would die too. So he didn’t die; and that’s how you knew he loved you still, even though he didn’t understand it.

You still died before your time, both of you.

Next time, it was a bit more difficult to find him, but in the end, he found you again.

This time, he was different. He had so much rage in his fists, and bitterness on his tongue. But you saw love in his eyes, in his moss green eyes, and _why are they always green?_ , you wondered.

You were in high school and he kissed you. He kissed you, and he shouldn’t have. He told you that. He told you that he shouldn’t have, and he told you that he hated, but you weren’t sure what, because you didn’t see hate in his eyes when he looked at you, and you didn’t understand how could he hate himself. How could anyone hate a boy with warm green eyes, and so much love inside him; a boy that glows so bright that you couldn’t see the stars?

He hated, he said. He repeated that, but he never stopped kissing you.

So they beat him up.

They had beaten him up, and it took you three days to find out, and you ran to the hospital, but it was too late. You didn’t even get to say _goodbye, see you next time, next time will be better, I promise_.

They had beaten him up, and you realized what he might thought when he said that he hated.

Because you hate now.

You hate them, whoever they are, and you hate yourself for not being there, and you hate the world and the destiny, and whatever it is that scatters you across the lifeline, like you have no feelings, no purpose, no nothing. And you hate that he’s dead and you’re not, and you can’t let him be alone, not anymore, so you take your father’s razor, and you press it across your wrists, and you don’t regret it for a moment.

This time, it’s hard.

He isn’t here, and you feel the press of unfamiliar weight on your chest. It’s guilt, and love, and loneliness, and hope.

You wait. You think, maybe he’ll find you again.

But you know that even you wouldn’t want to find yourself. Not after everything that happened, not after you have his death on your shoulders. Not after everything he went through.

Maybe you deserve this, you think. Maybe you deserve this life, alone and lost and not loved.  
Maybe you don’t deserve him.

You most definitely don’t deserve him.

This is your penance. This is your punishment, and you endure it without a single complain.

You go through this life like a ghost. You think, maybe next life. You think, maybe he’ll be happy without you.

But you still run into him, quite literally.

You run into him, and you look up to apologize, but your breath is taken by the green eyes and constellation of freckles, and the kindest smile you’ve ever seen.

“My name is Dean,” he says, and your legs are shaking.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and your heart feels like it’s going to explode.

I am now, you want to tell him. Stay away from me, you want to scream. You’ll be better without me, you want to cry.

But you just nod your head, and mutter an apology.

And you try to run this time, you really do.

You try to stay away from him. Doesn’t matter that you’re in pain, or that you can’t think of the way you’ll survive. He will be safe this time. This time, you don’t get to ruin him.

But you don’t expect him to follow.

He follows you, and he asks you. He asks you for just one chance, and you know it’s wrong, but you could never refuse him anything, and you’re just a little bit selfish, so you give yourself one more chance to say goodbye.

He takes you out in the small café, and his smile is so bright it hurts.

You talk about nothing and everything, and he is so radiant, and you wonder if you will be able to let him go without tearing yourself to pieces.

It’s late when he walks you home, and the sky is dark.

You turn around and you mean to tell him goodbye. You mean to tell him that’s the best. You want to tell him that you love him. You’ve loved him for so long, and he’s been the most beautiful thing you’ve ever had.

You want to tell him that your soul aches for his.

But those are the words that escape _his_ mouth.

He looks at you, and he looks horrified by the words. But for you, it’s a melody. It’s a hope.

“What did you say?” you ask him.

He blushes and he won’t look at you. “I’m sorry,” he says instead. “I didn’t mean…”

“No,” you say, and you feel like you’re going to cry. “Please, say it again.”

He looks confused, and hopeful and embarrassed at the same time. “I said… I think I wanted to say I missed you. Which is weird, because I only just met you. But I feel like I know you for a long time. And I think I miss you.”

And those are definitely tears streaming down your cheeks, and your chest feel like it’s going to burst, and you know you can’t let him go now. You can’t lose him again.

“No, c’mon, don’t…” he murmurs, and reaches his hand to wipe away your tears.

“I missed you too,” you whisper, and you kiss him, and you kiss him, and he kisses you back, and you don’t remember ever feeling this happy before.

He hugs you, and you don’t feel like letting go. He doesn’t either.

This time, you promise, you two will get your happy ending.

This time, you deserve it.

 


End file.
